The Fabrication
by L.B- TheUnknownWriter
Summary: UPDATED! A random story that takes place a month before New Years. Mel and Vidanric meet a renown Fabricator and some bizarre event happens that can shake all of Athanarel and the World. . . finally updated. Chapter Three. R&R!
1. The Fabricator

Curtains; L.B- The Unknown Writer

Another random story. I hope its better than the one before. R&R! It gives hope. . .

Disclaimer: It's all for Sherwood Smith!!

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The sun rose warmly six months after Vidanric and I destroyed Flauvic Merindar in a duel to the death. After the Court had awaken, we immediately set out to refurbishing and ridding Athanarel of the last traces of the Merindars. It has been six months, and we've started to refurbish the Palace with new decor, for the coronation was to take place within a month. Nimiar and Branaric were married midsummer amid a great celebration. After, they withdrew to Tlanth, leaving me and Vidanric to move on with our lives. I was so eager, for there was so many things that needed to be done, that I was the one who gave Vidanric the idea to start the refurbishing of the Palace for the coronation.

&

I sat there at the window, tugging at my hair in lost thought. It had been raining outside, so the Court was stuck inside, doing this or that. A few minutes ago, I heard an unguarded scream, a few low curses, and then a slap and the thudding of footsteps scurrying away quickly with a muffled word. I knew that I wasn't the only one who longed to be out of here. I continued to stare out of the window of my rooms at the stream lined with trees. Suddenly, there was a noise in my parlor and then the sound of footsteps. I froze upon instinct and then relaxed when I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder.

"And, what dare I ask, are you doing here?" Vidanric said, taking stand near the window seat that I was sitting on. "Aren't you supposed to be in the Heraldry Archive managing the distribution of the Merindar Records? Or are you just putting that off so you could dally for a while and load stress over me like rocks?" I laughed, causing him to grin.

"Oh, yes I was. I planned to keep all of my duties at bay so I could load it off on you. I am so vain." My reward for my sardonic humor was was a soft laugh that I had come to love.

"Well, as the near King, that will not be accepted. You are to be working, Lady or not." He said this lightly, indicating a retorting joke, but there was a subtle undertone that indicated that he meant it. I frowned, and then smiled up at him.

"Alright," I said. "I didn't do my duties because of the rain. Not because I wanted to kill you with small worries. Now, I'm going." I said that arrogantly, waving my hand in his face. I suppressed a small smile when I saw his face aghast. I continued to walk to the doors until he caught my hand and whirled me around into his arms. I laughed when I saw his face turn stern with worry that he offended me.

"Meliara."

I laughed again. "I'm kidding! I'm coming with you. Weren't _you_ supposed to be with the cloth merchants? Making deals for the new tapestries and swags and all the other cloth items for your coronation? And you mock me with duties!" I exclaimed with another laugh, leading the way out of the door.

We stepped out into the hall, where servants and hired workers were already scurrying around. I waved to other members of the Court, who were milling around in pairs, commenting quietly at the various cloth's and pieces of furniture that were being moved in or brought out to the outer storage houses.

I felt a hand snake around my waist, and I tilted my head up at Vidanric, smiling. To my question he said, "It seems that someone had already taken care of that. When I came to receive the merchants, I found all of the deeds done and signed, along with a note from the most famous fabricator in all of Saratorias-deles." He hesitated, not saying the name. I looked up at him, eyes wide.

"You don't mean. . ."

"Yes, I mean."

"Nuvausa Lunday?"

Vidanric seemed to tense just slightly when I said the name, like he was shaken by a bad memory, but I dismissed the thought when he smiled back at me. "Yes. Mistress Lunday agreed to bedeck the Palace full, with no cost or trouble."

I gaped at him. "H-How?" I stared at him, mind blown. During my readings and dealings with the booksellers of Remalna a year past, I had learned of many famous personages of their time. Ones that caught my eye were the most renown fabricators of their time. There was one specific one that existed now. She was Nuvausa Lunday, a Master fabricator that was trained in the dark arts of Fabrication in the secret Court of Mearned. After the Court had been destroyed by a tear between the two ruling families, she had fled with the frantic subjects of Mearned and sailed to Marloven Hesa. There, she'd settled and was anointed as a minor upholsterer for the lower ranks in the Marloven Court. Her work with the lesser ranks was so surreal and intricate, as was her background, that it caught the eye of the Marloven King, Senrid. He had called for her and she was then anointed as the head Fabricator.

In the meantime, Queen Yustnesveas Landis had sent out Journey Mages, almost like missionaries, to lead young want-to-be Mages into the arts of White Magic. She had sent a missionary named Amphiora to the Marloven Court where she met Nuvausa, who was only fifteen years old. They became fast friends, and Amphoria started to mention her in her letters to Yustnesveas. The Queen took interest and when she called for Amphiora to come back two years later, she told her to take Nuvausa with her. She agreed and when Nuvausa was presented in Court, with her background and workings, the Queen appointed her as Master Fabricator of Sartor. Until this day, she is the finest in the World.

"I have no idea," Vidanric said, answering my question. "I just read the note, written by her own hand for the signature was the same, and just knew. Alright. Directly it said,_" _he stopped and took out a piece of folded linen paper, one that was as expensive as a diamond necklace. He handed me the letter and I read,

_For the Sun of Remalna, I have to announce to you that I must have the honor of bedecking splendor onto the great Inter-City of Athanarel. I must also announce that I am seeing fit that you, my Sire and long time friend, shall receive my best condolences and happiness along with my services. In keeping, the Court shall receive treatment from my own personal staff at no cost to you or anyone. As my best wishes for your coronation and your trans-passage into Kinghood. Please have rooms ready for about say a staff of a gross and that they need not be your best. I am being generous! Please send our best wishes to Her Lady that I've heard is in your favor. I plan to meet her at once._

_Regards from Sartor, the Queen, and my serving staff and myself,_

_ Nuvausa Lunday_

I gasped at the letter and handed it back to him. "She is indeed kind," I said with uncertainty. "But why? It said in the letter, "_. . .my Sire and long time friend._" Do you know each other?" He only smiled but didn't respond and I thought I felt him stiffen, but that could have just been my uncertainty. "When does she arrive?"

He looked at me, his eyes narrowing in humor. "The letter arrived two days before, as it seems. She shall actually be arriving here herself in the evening." I gasped at him and then turned back to where I was walking to. One thought irked at my mind; Why didn't he tell me before?

We continued walking, into one of the lesser dining halls I found out, without conversation. We passed servants, with pure blank faces that I haven't seen before, and into the dining hall.

"Wait," I whispered, breaking the silence between us. "I know I haven't seen any of these servants before. Are they new?"

Vidanric didn't look at me when he said, "No, I don't think you have. Or you shouldn't have. They are the Fabricators staff. They always arrive before she does. To prepare." I nodded.

"And why the dining room now?"

He looked down at me, smiling again at my avid questioning. "I was sent a message from someone asking me to bring you and myself into this dining hall. Probably to bade thanks." I tilted my head and then we were finally into the dining hall. The footman waiting at the door smiled to us in welcome; I had not seen him before.

"My lord," he said, his warm brown face breaking into a smile. "You have finally arrived. She has been waiting and I do believe that her temper is not in our favor." Vidanric smiled quizzically, not knowing what he meant.

"Her?" he asked politely as the footman led them to the wall of windows at the dining room. There, the Fabricators staff was busily tearing down panels and flags that were Galdran's glory. There, midst the scurrying of white uniforms, a tall and imposing figure stood there, her hands clasped behind her back as she watched them, signaling for this and that.

"Yes, she is waiting," he footman said as he stopped Vidanric and me and went up to the woman and exchanged a few quite words. The woman nodded in approval, but I still couldn't see her face. I felt Vidanric stiffen just slightly. The footman returned and smiled. "She will see you now." He gestured to the woman, who's back was still turned.

We walked forward and I heard Vidanric take a deep breath when we reached her. "My lady." The woman turned around and I caught a expression of a hard face, dark blue and brown eyes, winged brows of black, short black hair, straight nose, and a wild mouth. The woman's face was polite, but her eyes hinted surprise.

Suddenly, her face changed as she exclaimed, "Vidanric Renselaeus! Is that you? Heavens, you have changed!" I looked up at Vidanric and found him stiff, his face a forced smile. But his eyes hinted something else. It was only his eyes that he couldn't guard, keep away from me, and it gave him away now.

"My Lady Nuvausa Lunday. It is an honor to see you again," Vidanric said as he swept a low bow. This was the Fabricator. I frantically swept one after Vidanric. The Fabricator turned to me, her face merry, but her eyes lost their excitement. Vidanric smiled.

"Permit me to introduce Lady Meliara Astiar, former Countess of Tlanth." The Fabricator nodded, and smiled at me, her face reserved. I held out my hand and she hesitated, taking it awkwardly. I looked at her, brow faintly raised. She frowned and then laughed.

"Lady Meliara, please forgive me if this seems awkward. I do believe, even through my extensive years at Court, I do not seem to know how to receive a proper welcome. Forgive me." She put her hand over her heart generously. I nodded my acceptance and then she straightened.

"My lady, have you received any refreshment?" Vidanric asked, his voice neutral, but it rose just slightly with emotion. The Fabricator smiled at us both.

"I've only arrived, thank you. I'd not like to pester you, so I'll wait for nourishment." Vidanric nodded.

"As you wish, my lady." Normally I would have persisted a guest to nourish themselves, and normally a guest would ask for nourishment, but it seemed that this lady was different. And Vidanric knew not to ask anymore. "Then, I'll show you to your rooms and we'll all dine together at dinner."

The Fabricator put up an hand. "No need. I already have been shown and you need not worry yourselves. I must supervise the cleaning." Vidanric nodded.

"As you wish." I was getting slightly annoyed by Vidanric's lack of persistance.

"It is an honor that you've put _yourself_ in all this trouble to bedeck the Palace, my lady," I chimed in, hoping for a smile and tone that pleased her. Although she was slightly irritating, I did not want to displease her.

She laughed. "Lady Meliara, please, call me Nuvausa. Nuvau for short, if you will. And, it is no trouble at all. I know I owe Vidanric back from a wager we had years ago at Marloven Hesa." Now she was looking at Vidanric, eyes narrowed in mirth. "What a wager it was! I lost, unfortunately, and never payed him back. Until now, that is. Other than that, my dear, I am honored to bedeck Athanarel with glory. A glory it is!"

I smiled. "Thank you, Nuvau. Will you please join us for dinner?" I asked, waving my hands artfully as I've seen Tamara do in front of Savona. Nuvau smiled.

"I will be honored." With that and a nod and a quiet word, she left, taken up by a small trope of servants carrying length's of crisp and new white curtains.

I turned to leave, dragging Vidanric along with me as he watched with fascination. Something was wrong, and I needed to know what it was.

&

". . .you could have said!" I yelled, turning my back to him.

"How could I? You'd never understand."

"Never understand what? I have not been an understandable person all my life, and I think that I could understand you! Tell me. Now." I was raged with fury. After our visit with Nuvau, I had somehow lost my temper and flailed into the hall, cursing and causing passersby to watch us. Vidanric, uneasy with another emotion, also lost his temper. More subtly, though. He had dragged me into my rooms, bade Mora to keep all doors locked, and sat me down in my parlor so we could let out our temper alone.

"Tell you what? Excuse my slowness, but I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Don't tell me that I don't know. The word play. The stiffening. The rising of voice. All the signs were there," I declared indignantly. He stared at me, confused.

"What _are _you talking about? Mel, we'll never get anywhere if you keep ranting like this. Please, answer this question and I'll tell you _everything._ What are you talking about?" He put his hands on my shoulders and stared into my face, his expression that of a confused child. I sighed and stared at him.

"Why did you look at Nuvau like that? I mean, you seemed as if you were. . .were besotted or something." I blushed furiously at the awkwardness of my statement. He sighed and looked down, face guilty. He had been using less of his Court mask around me.

After an uncomfortable silence, he spoke. "Mel, there is something you need to know about Nuvau and me. Something I have to tell you." I nodded, encouraging him to go on. "When I was sent away to training in Marloven Hesa, when I was fifteen, I was foolish. I had met Nuvausa in a hall and we became great friends. Very great friends. Not flirts, or even intimates, but great friends. Later, a year before I left for home, to Remalna, I realized that my admiration for her was more than I wanted. Mel, we are not lovers. What you saw was some of my old emotions rising again."

I stared at him, my heart swelling with love for he said that with honesty. Or that's what I thought. I smiled at him and he smiled back, seeming relieved. In the distance, the bells rang First Blue. Suddenly, he got up and rose, taking me with him.

"We must dress for dinner. Let us forget our quarrel and let us enjoy Lady Nuvau's company. Can you do that for me?" he asked, brows raised. I grinned at him and nodded. He gave me a responding grin and left, leaving me alone to dress.

I ran into my dressing room and bade Mora to come.

"I need to find something that would please and attract the eye of the Fabricator," I said digging through my wardrobe. Compared to what the Fabricator brought, I knew my gowns paled in comparison. Mora froze when I said, "Fabricator".

"The Fabricator?" she said, her face flushed with delight. "My, she is our idol! Heavens!" I grinned at Mora's reaction, for I'd never seen her mask gone. "My! My! My! My lady, you need something so wondrous! Goodness!"

I laughed. "Mora! Calm yourself!" Mora flushed and then stopped, her mask recomposing. "Please, help me find something!"

At once, Mora snapped her fingers three times, like a code, and then a small trope of maidservants scurried in and into the wardrobe. Mora smiled. "Ready for the gowning."

The gown they chose for me was beautiful. It was one of the newer gowns that I'd received after Nee and Bran's wedding. It was a long gown, made in a shade of pale green. The bodice was beaded and sequined in silvery gold and diamonds and small emeralds. The half-arms were fringed with silver lace, as was the neck. The skirt was made of a blue green, silk paisley, embroidered with moss gems and small crystals. The hem was done exquisitely with white lace fringed with glass beads of clear, green, blue, and red; for the shade of my hair and to pay respect to Nuvau's colors. My hair was let free and pinned up with combs until it reached only my waist and the rest piled on top of my head.

I twirled around on Mora's command and the skirts loosened. "Ready!"

"Oh, indeed you are. Now," Mora said, grinning like a girl, "you make sure to ask questions to the Fabricator of the latest fabrics and gown cuts. You shall mention them to me after!" I smiled.

"I will." I truly would, and only to Mora, for she'd became a mother to me. I walked out to the hall and to the Residence steps where I knew Vidanric would be waiting for me.

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**Chapter One is finished! I hope its not to out of character. . . Review if you want. Reviews are the only thing that'll keep me writing. :-) I want to finish it!!  
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	2. Dinner

**THE FINAL UPDATE!! MUH HAH HAH HAAAAAAHHH!!  
**

**Disclaimer; I own nothing and never will.**

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I smiled when I saw Vidanric waiting for me, an equally large smile pasted on his face. He held out his arm and I took it and proceeded down the steps and onto the path toward the Royal Residence Wing. We would be dining in the Hall of West Parlor, a high ranking hall for all major foreign importances. We planned to arrive discreet and alone, without any type of pony trap or something of the like. It was some kind of hidden tradition, Vidanric told me, that the hosts are to arrive in discreet before the guest(s) of Honor.

As we walked down the path, Vidanric reviewed over the plan we had created for the feast.

"Alright. Let us review over what we planned. We have the very, almost disturbing, honor of hosting one of the greatest personages of all. Since she rarely travels herself for so long, and early, this will be all over Sartor, or the World. In keeping, it means that if we pull this off, Remalna would be very, very famous." He said it in a careful, almost foreboding tone, indicating that it was of real great significance. And it was.

"It would," I agreed. "And, we want to make sure all guests are treated fairly. 'Tis a good start for a newly reconstructed kingdom." I had not approved that Vidanric had taken this dinner more of a showcase than an act of good will, but I said nothing. In a way, he was right. No matter how warm the relation, the dinner served as a window into the dealings and hospitality of the Remalan Court.

"Now, to the plan," Vidanric said, his face absent. "Now, I want to start out with the entry. The entry is to be of a grand dealing. There is to be the whole Court, some visiting ambassadors, and some anonymous personages that she has not given to. But, she did warn that they were of _very_ great importance. In my guess, sharing her rank. Anyway, the entry is to be grand, with trumpets and all the glory. We will follow, the Court that is, in rank behind Nuvau and her guests. . ."

"And then we will be seated, introduced by rank and the blabber, then we will start the feast, conversing about the plans to refurbish, ask questions and find insights about the rest of the world, ask about diplomacy and such, and then, dance the new Sartorian dances and enjoy the evening. I remember," I finished for him. He smiled down at me.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," he mumbled, his eyes widening with fascination. I blushed, embarrassed. I had realized that while we were talking, we had reached the steps. We slipped through the grand doors and into the resolution hall, the door behind it leading into the gallery that led down the Grand Staircase.

"We must see to the Hall, quickly," Vidanric said, taking my arm and leading the way to the door. Two footman's sprang and opened the doors, faces blank. They were the Fabricator's. We reached the gallery and I gasped at what I saw.

We leaned against the gallery and stared at the Hall, awestruck. The Hall was lined with beautiful shades and hues of red and blue and green and gold. These colors were accented by swags of fabric sheers, one toned paisleys, and silks that hung from the ceilings. The walls were bedecked with sheer white hangings, tied and tufted with cords of gold and red. There, on the tufts, were silken cords and beads that glimmered as if made from a different kind of starstone.The cushions that lined the wall near the grand fireplace were done in off whites and soft pastels of the same colors with rope trim of black. There were new exotic candle stands of teak wood, holding small, bronze canters that held incense sticks and glowing candles scattered in corners and circlets. The stands were carved with depictions of everyday life, and with flowers and curls inlaid with black and at the ends of these curls, beads were hung of red and clear. The large empire table at the center was table clothed in a gentle layer of gaudy rose. Smaller versions of the teak candle stands were placed in a bushel of crimson roses and bright green ferns in a long line in the center of the table. All of this gave a truly unique Remalan/Sartorian feel.  
--

I gasped at Vidanric, who's face was blank, but the way he leaned against the banister told me that he was just as shocked as I was. I turned to him, my face troubled. "You had the Fabricator decorate her own Hall?" I asked him, looking at the bedecked dinning chamber. I turned back to him to see him watching me.

"Well. . .not really. When I saw to the decor -- and yes Mel, I did know that she arrived before we met her -- I found that her staff had already prepped this room with different articles. I was a bit dismayed, but then I realized that what was in the Hall was all Sartorian, I knew that it wasn't finished. I asked our own Palace staff to incorporate traditional Remalan items to create a fusion of two cultures. The latest fashion for hosting foreigners, I've heard." He smiled at me and added, "And since she has been in Sles Adran for the time being, a year, she probably doesn't know this style. It was developed not to long ago."

"Really?" I asked, grinning. I loved the idea of wowing the Fabricator with something that she hadn't seen before. "Good then! We shall receive the guests?" He looked down at me.

"Already taken care of. They await in the salon and we shall receive them. I'd scheduled Nuvau and her guests to arrive in at First Blue. About twenty minutes from now. We shall wait until a footman. . ." He was stopped by the sound of footsteps. He stiffened and reached subtly for the sword that wasn't at his side and then stopped. No one of real harm could get through the footmen and Guards that were stationed outside the Hall.

We turned around to greet the same footman that had taken us to the Fabricator. He smiled when he saw us, his strides easy and hand welcoming. "My lord, Lady," he said, bowing to each of us. "She will be here shortly. They have just left the State Wing minutes before. I was sent before to warn you."

"And who may I address?" Vidanric asked, voice as polite as always. The man smiled, face blissful.

"My name is Yusuf Salman, the Fabricator's own personal adviser," he said with a bow. We bowed back.

"Pleasure, Sir Salman," I answered, mind aghast. _Why was the adviser running errands and taking the job as footman? _

I shook off that thought when I heard Vidanric say, ". . .and, how many would there be? Can you tell me of her personal guests? We need be sure that they get the most proper care, no less." Salman only smiled.  
--

"Let it come from this saying, "_When Great Minds come together, they Form no less in an Fellowship. The Elite of them all," _he said, face betraying no other knowledge. Vidanric straightened and frowned, forehead creased in thought. Then, his eyes grew wide, mouth slightly open as he glanced at me and rose a brow at Salman.

"Are you sure?" he said at last, when he reviewed all of it over in his mind. Salman nodded.

"True enough. She has brought them here on her own reason's, one's we cannot go against or ponder over," Salman said, shrugging a little. "But, you need not worry my lord. All they want is a good set of rooms, a hot bath, and a proper dinner. Don't be daunted by rank." Vidanric smiled at the heart-given reassurance. I stood there, not knowing how to respond to this awkward social exchange, and said nothing.

"The Elite. . .this is getting a bit out of hand. Nuvau never mentioned. . .," Vidanric said to himself, shaking his head. I glanced over at him, confused. Due to my ignorance, which still hindered me, I didn't very much understand the quote or what it meant.

"The Elite?" I asked, breaking the silence. Vidanric looked up, ready to explain when Salman put his hand up politely. Vidanric nodded at him to proceed.

"My lady," Salman started, "The Elite can only be described as the greatest under-rulers of the World. That means that they are not kings, queens, emperors, empresses or other Powers, but they are the top most leaders in their craft. The Main Categories are; Fabrication, Smithy, Botany, Masonry, Military, Cookery, Fishery, and Husbandry. The Elite consist of Masters' of their Craft. There is Nuvausa Lunday of Fabrication, Shudar Karnade of the Smithy, Gregory Mendelen of Botany, Aaric Duvar of Masonry, Seric Montrei-Vayir of the Military, Salleh Doon of Cookery, Jonathan Silver of Fishery, and Joehsav Armis of Husbandry. All of which are the Elite of the Eight Wonders this world has to offer."

He stopped, letting me take it all in. I was blown inside. We, the small and unknown kingdom of Remalna, only slightly famous because of the Renselaeus' alliance with Sartor, were going to house --who knows for how long-- the greatest of the great. The Elite.

"Goodness," I breathed, resisting the urge to whistle. "And we. . ." I was cut off by a loud noise, and a slight murmur of people in an adjacent room.

"We have to go," Vidanric said, answering our questions. The Fabricator and the Elite have arrived. We rushed out of the door and into the salon where I saw the selected Court waiting. We led them out, Vidanric commanding them in a low voice. Finally, after at least ten minutes, the Court was arranged from highest to lowest rank. Vidanric and I met Savona and Tamara and the Prince and Princess at the door for they were going to be leading with us into the Hall as our Royal Family. --

The Princess smiled, but her manner seemed troubled. "Goodness, we've been caught in a fix. First an unexpected offer from the Fabricator, and now a dinner for the Elite. . .my."

"Do not worry Mother," Vidanric said, "We'll treat it like a very formal State dinner. Our friend Yusuf Salman has assured us of that." He motioned over to Salman, who greeted the Royal Family with a bow, face welcoming and friendly. Clearly he was used to being around Royalty.

"Yes, my lady," he said, addressing the Princess. "The staff has seen to the preparations that were made and approved them ten-fold. No need to fret. All the Elite needs is a decent meal, hot bath's, and a good suite of rooms and Respect." The Princess smiled at him.

"Well, that is good," she said to us all.

"And, my dear cousin Vidanric, _you _have no reason to fret, for I saw to everything," Savona said, waving a hand in dismissal. Quickly he added, "_We _saw to everything." when he saw Tamara glare.

"Of course," Tamora said, her pride showing. "No need to worry. We shall dazzle them all."

You_ will dazzle them all, _I thought with a laugh. Tamora looked as if she were a visiting queen or importance herself. She wore a long gown of blue gossamer, the same shade as her eyes. The bodice was embroidered heavily with small sapphires and diamonds and rubies along the round neck. The skirt was embroidered with the same fashion on the hem and it billowed out, revealing an under gown of a rich cream. It to was embroidered with diamonds and rubies. Everyone's clothes had a touch of red to them, signifying and respecting the Fabricator's colors. Her curls were pinned up at the back of her head in a nimbus with braided ribbons and gems.

"That we shall," Vidanric said. Suddenly, there was a blaze of trumpets. We hastily sprang to the side as the doors flew open, revealing the trope. Salman walked past us and behind the two trumpeters. Suddenly they started to march forward, sending out the Royal Mark in a cunningly tuned trumpet blast. We watched in fascination as a canopy led a small group of eight and their advisor's. Nuvau was at the front, back straight and chin high. We could not see her face, or any of their faces, under the shadow of the canopy. All we saw were their clothes, so blisteringly shiny that we almost had to squint. The trumpeters stopped and then let out the Remanlan Mark, signaling the Royal Family to join. I took Vidanric's arm, The Prince to the Princess, and Savona to Tamara. We made our way to the front, behind the trumpeters. As if on cue, the selected Court went in behind, all in the order of rank. The doors to the Grand Staircase opened and we walked to the Gallery. I saw in amazement the rest of the Court waiting below, either seated on cushions or around the buffet. All of their attention was now on us. --

We walked down to the sound of proceeding trumpets and various instruments that I hadn't heard before and onto the red marble floor of the West Parlor. We stopped and stepped aside, letting the canopy and the eight pass us to the front of the Empire table. The canopy was lifted and I saw the most interesting and queer group of people that I have ever witnessed. As they were seated, the Announcer called out the introductions.

First was Nuvau, who looked entirely different than she did before in tunic and trousers. Now, she wore a rosy red gown that was cut in such a style that the cut looked better than any gem. The bodice was form-fitting and done in a paisley red fabric embroidered everywhere with beads of every color and rubies and diamonds along the triangular neck and sleeveless arms. The bodice ended abruptly at a flourishing of gossamer in gold that washed down like a river into a flowing skirt of red sheer. That skirt opened into another one of a butter yellow gossamer. Each was embroidered with gold wire and rubies and diamonds and other assorted gems in different patterns. My gaze traveled up to Nuvau's face, which shone brilliantly under the candlelight. Her straight hair had been let down from her tie and I now noticed that it reached only down to her shoulders. I saw in her face the seriousness that I saw in Vidanric's face, but I also saw a layer of brightness over it. It was then that I realized why Vidanric had been so attracted to her at one time; her countenance and personality were like his.

I shook myself out of that depressing thought and watched her walk toward her seat and sit down, her skirts artfully arranged.

"Shudar Karnade of the Smithy," the Announcer called. Out of the group stepped out a tall man of formidable girth. He was dressed in a plain dressing of tunic and trousers, nothing special, but over it he wore a leather apron, much like the one I saw in our Smithy at Tlanth, but his was more like a work of art. The apron he wore was like a piece of gold hammered so thin that it was now like fabric. It was done over with Alexandrites and amethysts and along the edges with iron and silver workings. All of it illuminated his stern, black bearded face and long black hair that was plaited with two small braids in the front. He took a seat next to Nuvau.

Next was a lean man named Gregory Mendelen. He was a queer man, dressed all in green and brown, with eyes of the purest emerald. He had small hands that looked as if he spent his whole life arranging and fingering flowers. His clothes were of no gems, but around his neck he wore a long string of clover-shaped emeralds and fresh flowers that hung down to his narrow waist. He too took a seat, flanked next to Shudar Karnade.

"Aaric Duvar of the Masonry," the Announcer said, calling another Elite. A stocky man walked out of the group. What caught me was that he was barefooted, with slightly rolled up trousers as if he was feeling the floor. He walked with the surety that one might have if treading on loose rocks and not smooth marble. Along with his blue trousers, he wore a tunic-shirt of coarse gray burlap, exquisitely cut. In one hand, he held a polished silver mallet-hammer that was encrusted with marble veins and silver and gold ore. Raw and uncut diamonds and sapphires adorned the hilt, surfaces polished to give of a shine. His hard face was lined with a beard and mustache that was black, red, white and gray, as if it were made of marble itself. Gray eyebrows arched his stern gray eyes and long gray hair was combed back carelessly to fall in a heap on his shoulders. He walked gracefully, almost floating, to a seat next to Gregory Mendelen.

Next was a man that almost scared me when he was called. He was Seric Montrei-Vayir of the Military. He was an outrageously tall man, surprisingly lean, with short fox colored hair and orange eyebrows. He had hazel eyes of a fox, straight nose, and a razor of a mouth. On his fox-like face was a beard and mustache that was so carefully cultivated that it almost looked as if it was drawn on his face. He wore a very exquisite dress of dark forest green and black velvet, done with diamonds. At his side was a handsome sword that Vidanric probably envied, sheathed in a case of gold and silver workings. He walked with the air of a commander and I felt Vidanric stiffen when he took a seat next to Nuvau, fox eyes alert. I knew from Vidanric's stiffening that he was probably Marloven.

"Salleh Doon of the Cookery," the Announcer bellowed and out from the group a short and stocky woman appeared. She wore no gown, but a simple brown dress of cotton and white. Over it was a white apron made from the most finest silk weave, adorned with silver and gold wire stitchings in various patterns. In one hand she held a chef's cleaver, its silver blade kept in a sheath of yellow gold and white gold done with a hard blackweave. It's hilt was done marvelously with carvings of emerald, ekirth, diamonds, starstone, and quicksilver. Her face was surprisingly thin, with brown hair hanging simply to her shoulders. She took a seat next to Seric Montrei-Vayir, her hands fingering her cleaver.

The next man was the most prominent of the eight. He was Jonathan Silver of the Fishery. He was the most anonymous, but that didn't stop the smell of a hundred year old fish from coming through. I glanced around and saw Tamara's mouth stretched into a thin line of white, her eyes brimming with tears, hand in front of mouth to keep from gaging. Even Vidanric, so carefully controlled, had to look away, eyes glazed from watering. The whole Court shifted when he walked forward. He was dressed in a slick suit of gray, so fitting that it looked as if he never took it off. His hair was black and greasy and was smoothed off by a careless hand. He wore boots that were polished to a gleam and around his neck was a necklace of shark teeth that were carefully polished to show off their luster, and ekirthi and sea shells. In one hand was a long harpoon, its teak wood staff carved with images of the naval type. He seemed proud as he took a seat next to Aaric Duvar, who remained like a stone, unbreathing.

The last one to be presented was Joeshav Armis of Husbandry; He was another one who blended in. He was clothed in a workman's tunic and trousers, adorned with Alexandrites of a dull gray and small ekirthi. Over his weary and wrinkled face was a gray, burlap hat encrusted with the same ekirthi and Alexandrites along the brim over his brown hair. In one hand he held a shovel, its staff carved and engraved with different symbols in Sartorian. Over the staff was a metal casing that was carved and inlaid with iron and gold, as was the actual shovel. He walked over, small brown eyes alert as he took a seat next to Salleh Doon.

The introductions were done and it proceeded from there. Vidanric led the Royal Family to their seats and introductions were done in a flash.--

It didn't take so long before everyone was seated and introduced and the feast began. To our dismay (and relief) we found that the Fabricator's staff had planned and prepared the meal to the general likings of the Elite. During the feast, I noticed that whatever food was brought, the Elite made almost painstakingly sure that they took a sampling of everything. I say painstakingly because Johnathan Silver, who probably never ate anything besides seafood, had an almost internally volatile time eating portions of sweetmeats. The rest seemed perfectly content on feasting with anything other than a few dishes. While Vidanric and the Prince and Princess asked of different affairs, I sat there listening to them, trying to compare what they said to my coextensive knowledge. I got nowhere so I contented myself to admiring the Sartorian blackwork on the candlestands when I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. The skin at the back of my neck pricked, but I turned around slowly to find Nuvau smiling down at me.

"Mel! This does get a bit boring," she whispered down to me, holding out her hand. I took it awkwardly and we slipped out of the Hall through one of the servant's accesses. When we were out of the Hall she laughed. "This might seem awkward enough, I'm sorry, but I never can stay so long in one spot. And, I heard about you and I thought what a woman to take!" I just smiled at her, confused.

"I don't follow," I said politely, trying to sound as understanding as possible. She frowned slightly and sighed.

"I was thinking that you could show me around this building of Athanarel. If that is alright," she replied, almost guiltily. I looked up at her, not able to help the smile that was starting to grow on my face.

"I'd be delighted to," I said with a curtsy.

&

Amazingly, I found that Nuvau was a person who loved to laugh, despite her stern and authoritative exterior. As we walked to the Library, which was at the end of the Royal Residence wing, Nuvau lectured on many things, always taking my questions seriously and giving them professional answers. Besides the art of Fabrication, Nuvau had a very extensive knowledge of various other crafts and histories.

". . .for there's always sheep to be herded, the clothiers of today cannot be overrun by the Fabrication."

I jerked my attention back to her and smiled, trying to make a resemblance that I was listening. "Really? So, does the Fabrication make sure only to use as much wool and other fabric's for, what, Royalty?"

Catching my resemblance, Nuvau smiled in approval. "Yes. We understood that what our ancestor's did, back in the time of 4030 or so, when the Fabrication was just introduced, was actually _hurting _the industry. All of the clothiers and minor upholsters that served in cities had no money to buy the wool. Even if they did, we'd probably have bought all of it anyway. That, as you may know, only made them quit. With them quitting, the lower house families that needed so desperately to have things fixed against weather, wear, et cetera, would clamor at our doors and beg. Sadly, since we were busy doing Royalty estates, we couldn't tend to help them. Since we couldn't help them, the families made complaints to their lords, which reached kings and monarchies, and they had us banned. It made a nasty quarrel of everything."

I had to whistle at that. "One thing does lead to another," I said ruefully, shaking my head.

Nuvau grinned. "Sure does. The Library!" She pointed at the large wooden doors that led into the Library, her face full of excitement. I grinned as she quickened her strides and batted aside the footman that sprang to open them. "Back!" she snapped sternly, causing the footman to sink back into their niches, eyes flashing. I followed her in and stood near a bookshelf, watching her file her way around the different shelves, finger pointed and eyes narrowed. "Laws, Proclamations, yada yada yada," I heard her say to herself. "More laws. . . .here!"

I went over to her and peered over shoulder at the leather-bound book that she held to her. I glimpsed the title _Dark Arts _ and stifled a gasp as I staggered back. Nuvau and Dark Arts? Impossible. When she turned to me her eyebrows knitted in worry. I raised a brow to reply, eyes darting to the book she held. She stiffened. "_Dark Arts_?" I said politely. "Interesting book. I've seen reviews done exquisitely before on this."

She eyed my critically, a frown lining both brow and mouth and then she suddenly smiled, her face bright. "Yes it is! Now, let me tell you something." She walked over to an archive tapestry and batted it aside. My throat closed when I realized that it was the same one that Vidanric used as his study. She walked over to a table that was tucked between two shelves and rested the book down onto it gently. "Anyway," she continued, "Fabrication is one of the Darker arts. I know, I know. It doesn't seem like it, does it." I shook my head, confused. She resumed. "It was derived from the teachings of the Mearsies Court long ago in 3700's, when the Venn Sea Empire broke into pieces. The Mearsies kept it in secret to themselves, passing it along from generation to generation of its inhabitants. But, by the time I was born, Norsunder learned of this and invaded the Empire, taking the magic as well as the teachers that taught it."

"It must've been bloody," I said, rubbing my arms.

Nuvau sighed. "Very. Took almost all of them." She smiled ruefully. "Luckily, since the magic was handed down, it still lived, even if Norsunder didn't know it. And, I don't think I need to explain the rest. All that happened was that it kept on being passed down, until it reached me. It was then made public only fifteen years ago to the whole world. In other words, it was now _one _central company that served the whole world, not just broken branches."

I shook my head slowly at this. So, Nuvau was taught in a "Dark" Art and yet she seemed so unattached to the "Dark" side of it--whatever that was--. Or at least that's what I thought. We spent the rest of the time filing through shelves, one after another, talking about histories, (Or actually Nuvau talking and me listening), and whatnot. It was getting late and I knew our presence was being missed. The candles had dwindled down to the First White Candle, leaving sunrise only a few hours away. "Nuvau," I asked when she paused her lecture to turn a page. She looked at me, one brow cocked in inquiry. I blushed. "Um, it's getting late now and I'd best guess that we hurry back to dinner."

She let out her airy laugh and looked at me smiling, both eyes and face. "Of course. What are we doing here? I guess that I'd gotten too caught up in past histories that I'd forgotten the present." Her smile turned into a grin. "Way too much." Her eyes invited me to share her humor.

I weakly smiled back and retorted, "Yes, too much. You almost mistook the wall tapestries as warrior shields." As a joke is wasn't much, but I did get a good, snorting laugh from her, which made me feel a bit accomplished.

She turned to me, her face flushed from mirth and held out her arm. "Alright! Alright! You're killing me! Let's leave, shall we?"

"Let's," I said, my face an unsure smile. Something seemed to irk at me. Something in Nuvau's overly leisured behavior, but she dragged me away before I could comprehend what it was.

Before we left, Nuvau slid her arm free and lifted the book called _Dark Arts_. She smiled at me as I watched her. "Wait a moment Mel," she said loftily, "A book will always be returned to its place or it will miss is sorely!" She went over to the shelf and I slipped outside.

While I waited for Nuvau to replace the book, I leaned against one of the high windows, looking out at the moon and the stars. I sighed, trying to banish thoughts out of my head, but they kept coming back. _Her smile, her beauty, her knowledge, the way the Elite stepped through as if the importance of the world, the arched backs, the simplicity and show of the skills, the leisure and grace in which they drifted, the footman, the unguarded laughter in the Library. . . _I jerked those thoughts out of my mind, wanting to scream the frustration out of me. What was wrong with me? Was I purposely trying to belittle myself? _I have _nothing _against Nuvau or any of the Elite. _But as I leaned my head against the cold glass and listened to the water flow, my mind kept whispering, _the way she looked at him. . . _Suddenly, I heard the crash of glass and a sharp curse and cry, and a few thuds, followed by sheer silence. I whirled around and gasped when I saw the footmen fall soundlessly onto the ground, like stones. _Like stones. . ._ I jumped when I heard from the Library a very familiar laugh.

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**Dun Dun Dun DUN!! Action at the begging of the THIRD chapter!! Yes! It's OVER!! And guess who's coming!!  
**


	3. The Two Black Mages

**Chapter Three; the action begins, sorta. As with the first two, this chapter will be updated in small chunks unless otherwise. Srry for the slowness, anyone who reads this! **

**Disclaimer; I own nothing.**

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I walked slowly toward the footmen and flinched. As I expected, they were turned into white statues, lifeless and posed as they were before it happened. A sickening feeling welled up in my stomach and I knew that I was about to relive what I _really_ hoped I would never relive again.

I reached for the spelled dagger that all courtiers were to carry at all time and grasped the wrought metal hilt firmly. I would have preferred a sword to defend myself against the person I was to meet, but that same person had tried to kill me with a dagger. I thought it best to give him a taste of his own medicine.

I edged along the marble walls slowly, making sure that I didn't make the slightest of noises. I was planning to throw the dagger, a trick that Vidanric had taught me after I prodded him to do so, and hope with the extent of my life that it would kill at the first and only shot. I held my breath and pressed myself into the niche just before the great doors of the Library and angled myself, poising the weapon between my first three fingers and my last two. Leaning back slightly on my left foot, I stooped down onto cold marble ground and pressed my face to the carved column surrounding the doors and looked in.

A sitting cushion with long, tan fringe obscured me from view, but through an opening, I could see everything. There was a clatter of books and broken glass near the large window seat that was the first thing one would see when they came into the library, and pieces of broken marble scattered throughout. Inching a little closer, I caught the sight of Nuvau's gown. She seemed to be standing to the left of the window, near the archive, and, thank heavens, she wasn't frozen. That didn't obscure my predictions of who the idiot was that did the damage, though. A heavy glow was settling around the room, waves of magic floating around within the currents. Lying flat on my stomach, I tucked my head behind the cushion so I could see her more clearly. Her hand seemed to be waving around and I could hear her saying something. My eyes narrowed and I crawled closer. Right across from her was a figure swathed in all black, his stance firm and unwavering. He seemed to sense my presence and turned slightly, but I was far to behind the cushion for him to confirm his suspicions.

Smirking, I inched even closer to them, my face now brushing against the fringe of the cushion, and I could now hear their conversation more clearly. What I heard was sickening.

"What in the name of life do you think you're doing?!" Nuvau hissed, her composure stiff as she glared at Flauvic with her piercing gaze. From my position behind the cushion, I could see that her hands were on her hips, the sign of female dominance. I had to suppress a laugh, for it still surprised me how much Nuvau could control herself in any situation, even in encountering a waste of space like Flauvic.

I heard something like a laugh from the other side of the cushion, and even though I couldn't see him, I could just picture a smirk of imperiousness. "What does it look like? I'm just enjoying some quality time gazing out of a gaping hole in the wall after escaping from being imprisoned as a tree for four month's."

I felt the hot waves of anger seethe from Nuvau and I wanted just as much as she probably did to lunge out and stab him with a dagger and then run him out of Athanarel with a sword. But before I could lose a grip on my anger, Nuvau lashed out,"Don't play games with me you spoiled idiot. You know very well what I mean. And, if you're time as a tree erased your ability to receive a simple question, then I'll be happy to clarify for you." I grinned when she said in a slow voice, like she was speaking to a child, "Now, what is with the gaping hole in the wall? First, why was the need for such a dramatic entrance? Are you mad, because if you are, I'll gladly turn you back into the tree you escaped from." The last sentence she said with a hint of authority, as if she really could turn him back into a tree. I wanted ever so badly to tell her that only Nosundrian sorcerers could perform spells done by Hill Folk, and only because they wielded black magic. . .

It was then and there that I realized something very, very painful. And, judging from the silence that stretched before Flauvic spoke, I realized that he had figured it out, too. But, as I expected, he'd make it work to his advantage.

"My dear Nuvausa," he said in his suavest voice, still of the perfect tenor like that of a singer. "You are prodding yet too far. I mean what I say. Unless, it is a crime for one to enjoy their freedom while it lasts?"

I saw Nuvau's form tense, indicating that she understood what game Flauvic wanted to play. After a short silence she crossed her arms and turned away just slightly, staring at the doors of the library and the cushion that I was hiding behind. I suppressed a gasp and slowly crawled backwards so she couldn't see me. Unfortunately, it was all too obvious with her quick eyes. Her eyes widened when they locked with mine. While we stared, I steadied my grip on the dagger, ready to use it if necessary. Sensing this, her face immediately grew stern, her eyes saying, _Don't you dare._I flinched, nodding despite of myself. She turned her head slightly toward Flauvic. "Enough games. Explain your propositions."

Right then, I knew that there would be no chance of ending a life now, and I knew that I had to get out of here before anyone noticed that I was missing. Or if these two knew I was missing. I moved my eyes toward Nuvau and to my relief, I found her back turned toward me. Taking a deep breath, I inch-wormed my way out of the crack between the doors, trying hard to keep the bells and jewels adorning my gown from clinking against the marble floors. When half of my body was out of the door, I shoved myself backwards so I was upright and pinned myself against the wall, letting out the breath that I had been holding in.

Standing up, I tiptoed from the library until I was about twenty footsteps away. Holding my skirts the best I could to keep them rustling against the floors, I high-tailed it from the Library, the sense of danger following my every footstep like a ghost. I knew that I had to tell everyone of the plans, but I wasn't sure how I could do it without two dangerous wielders of magic finding out. "Better safe than sorry," I mumbled under my breath as I straightened my hair and gown before reentering the dining hall. "Better _alive_ than sorry."

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My semblance of calm couture didn't work as well as I planned, although it was just enough to bypass most courtiers besides a particular someone who just _loved_ to get on my nerves.

As I slid in through the doors, unseen by everyone besides the guards, I noticed that the dinner was over, and now it was time for dancing. Usually, I would have pounced at this opportunity like a cat eyeing a mouse, but this time, keeping my cover was key. I smiled as I walked along the rows and clusters of cushions, receiving compliments from the guests at the spectacular planning of the dinner. Just as I was nearing the high table where Vidanric and two other people were standing, all of which were the best informants I could tell, a cheerful, careless voice graced my ears. Out of all the cheery voices I'd ever heard, my brother's was the most unmistakable. I suppressed a small groan when I was swamped in a hug as warm and tight as five layers of cloaks on a summers day.

"Mel!" he exclaimed as he put me down, his face a fraction less careless than its always been.

I smiled wearily. Damn the fact that my brother could read me no matter how well I could slap on a court mask. "Bran."

He gave me a grin until his face suddenly changed to horror and then remorse. He whirled around and behind him came Nee, whose belly was unmistakably large. My brows raised in surprise and misery_. Now, not only do I have my dear, loudmouthed brother here in Court while I'm being tracked down by two Mages, I have a pregnant sister-in-law to keep safe. Great_. I thought miserably as I carefully gave Nee a hug.

When she let me go she smiled, studying my face. I grinned uneasily. "Good news, eh?"

She grinned back, although I could clearly see that she knew that I was troubled. "Very," she said with a smile, excitement filling her voice. "Isn't it great!"

"How could it not be!" I replied, trying as hard as I could to bask in this joyous moment. _Think me!_Taking a step back, an idea hit. "Why don't you come this way," I said, starting to head over toward the cluster_. Better to let them all know at once_. I thought sardonically_. What could possibly go wrong_?

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UPDATE SPACE

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**What d'you all say? Was it awesome, good, bad, or pathetic?? Please let me know, ALL OF YOU READERS, how you liked it. I RUN on motivation so please don't hesitate to review. Shyness is not the question here. :-D **


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